The Cell
by auroraraye
Summary: A psychotic thriller that will change how you think about Victor Creed. The question is: will it change Ororo's opinion of him?
1. Dragula

DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are the property of Marvel comics. I know, I know, I'm brilliant. How could this not come directly from my mind, right? Well, I like toying with others' creativity as well. The movie The Cell is owned by New Line Cinema. The song "Dragula" is owned by Rob Zombie.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I've been gone so long. I was sorta-kinda under restriction, but not. (Don't ask.) I'm afraid I had to get rid of the other stories I was working on, because, away from them so long, I've lost my direction for them. Sorry! But this one just jumped out at me during my gnawing hours of free time, so I hope you like it.  
  
Dig through the ditches and  
  
Burn through the witches and  
  
Slam in the back of my  
  
Dragula  
  
The music reverberated throughout the club through a subwoofer, and hundreds of intoxicated bodies swayed to its thick bass. A tall, black woman of twenty-six years stepped into the 14,000 square-foot first floor, somewhat resembling a Matrix character in black leather pants, a full- length, silver tube-top, and a black trench coat. Her crystal blue eyes surveyed the surrounding turmoil cautiously.  
  
Her target would stay in the dark corners of the room, his only hope of hiding his 7-foot frame from her keen eyes. A serial killer with inch-long fangs, the musculature of a body-builder, and long, blonde hair, it was amazing he blended so well with any backdrop other than an African plain. She also kept close to the wall, not comfortable with the possibility of turning her back to him.  
  
Dead, I am the rat  
  
Fest upon the cat  
  
Tender is the fur  
  
Dying as you purr  
  
As the last note pulsated in a turntable trick, the neon lights overhead went out, coaxing a cheer from the crowd. Bright colors were replaced by mind-bending strobe lights. Convinced her jet-white hair gave her away like a beacon, she tried to crouch low in the throng of people around her.  
  
Dig through the ditches  
  
Burn through the witches and  
  
Slam in the back of my  
  
Dragula  
  
As the last white flash flickered away, she saw two small spheres in the distance, amber reflections of the light that she knew to be the killer's cat-like eyes.  
  
Dead, I am the dog  
  
Hound of hell you cry  
  
Another white flash, and he realized that she'd found him. He took a single step forward, suddenly on the offensive, and she tried to bravely hold her ground without putting herself in immediate danger. Once again, the room blackened, and she awaited the next flash.  
  
Devil on your back  
  
I can never die  
  
Another white light shone, and she saw a broad chest under a tight tank top directly before her. She almost gasped, but diligently contained herself, and when he grabbed for her neck, she swiftly sidestepped his arm. Rounding him in a 180-degree pivot, she performed a high-kick to the spine between his shoulders. The man bent forward slightly from the impact, and she took advantage of the tiny diversion to run at top speed to the second floor.  
  
I can never die  
  
Just as she bound up the last step, the murderer acrobatically flung his body over the railing beside her. She sent a catastrophic punch straight to his upper abs, only to hurt her own hand.  
  
I can never die  
  
He hadn't even tried to stop her fist, as if to mock her, but she was determined to beat Goliath where he excelled, in his physical strength. Still, as soon as she had swung, she regretted her resolve.  
  
I can never die  
  
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her close to him, and tickling the skin of her neck, he coolly whispered, "I can never die."  
  
Suddenly, the entire room was flooded with blinding light, and the hologram holding her disseminated into the air. She turned to find herself in the Danger Room, a brown-haired man walking briskly up to her, his eyes vexed behind a ruby-quartz visor.  
  
"Ororo," he commanded, "we have a-a guest in the Medlab." As she followed her companion, Ororo Munroe wondered what could make the fearless leader of the X-Men stammer. 


	2. Organic Killing Machine

Chapter 2: Organic Killing Machine  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks, edinarain, for the review! Was anyone else furious that in X-2, Wolverine went back to S.H.I.E.L.D. without Victor (and the rest of the team)? And William Stryker had nothing to do with it! exasperated sigh I need to write Bryan Singer someday.  
  
Cyclops, Storm, Phoenix, Wolverine, Beast, their mentor Charles Xavier, and a time-traveling mutant called Forge stood around a single medical cot, upon which a mammoth of a man lay unconscious. Victor Creed lay upon the examining table, wearing nothing but a large, white towel and twelve EKG sensors. Ororo found it hard not to gawk at his body. Her eyes traveled from his biceps, which could intimidate Hulk Holugan even when they were completely relaxed, and his C-cup-sized pecs, to his eight abdominal muscles, perfectly defined despite his concussion. Her eyes followed a daringly low lucky trail past that annoying towel to a pair of enormous thighs and calves. Seeing his feet, memories sprang to her mind, and she almost giggled. However, remembering the man she was thinking of, she began to feel sick.  
  
Xavier, who could sense the arousal and guilt past her blank face, cleared his throat to wake her from her daydream. "Are you feeling well, Ororo?"  
  
"Fine," she said, though her eyes were seeped in anger. "What is this about?"  
  
The blue-furred Dr. Hank McCoy answered. "Mr. Creed here is in a coma, presumably temporarily, with his healing factor. He and Logan had been fighting, as they often do, at a Sentinel base in Moscow, and there was a nuclear explosion." He turned to a short teammate with coarse, black hair. "How did you get away?"  
  
Logan answered through a set jaw. "He threw me from the rooftop right before a bright flash, and the next thing I knew, I was in a forest."  
  
"Either way," Jean Grey stated, "it's amazing either of you survived at all."  
  
"If it weren't for their metabolic generating abilities, they wouldn't have," McCoy resumed.  
  
Ororo anxiously stepped in. "Is there a viable reason that we're holding an organic killing machine in custody?"  
  
"The fate of the entire mutant race stands on the edge of his life," said Forge. "As you all know, Creed met Logan at the base in an attempt to lure him away from the trail of Senator Robert Kelly, who his associates are holding captive. Now, in four months, the Mutant Registration Act will be passed, largely based upon Kelly's assassination six days from now."  
  
"And how do we enhance our chances of stopping the MRA by keeping a murderer in our headquarters?" Scott Summers questioned.  
  
Jean stepped forward slightly. "The professor and I have been interrogating Victor from the inside of his mind. You see, if we can figure out, through Sabretooth, where Kelly is and how he's being guarded, we might be able to save the Senator, as well as some forty million mutants in the next three decades."  
  
"However," Xavier added, "we haven't had much success. Because Victor has no connection to his consciousness, his brain is operating purely by emotion, which, unfortunately, gives him the advantage over me. No matter how strong a telepath I may be, I can't change a man's subconscious."  
  
"Where does that leave us now?" came Logan's harsh voice.  
  
Forge seemed to be measuring Storm's emotions, as he slowly explained, "We were hoping that someone with an actual connection would be willing to step up to the plate."  
  
Munroe almost imploded when she realized what he was asking. "ME?!?!" Not waiting for an answer, she began to stomp out of the room, when Beast bound before her exit with an apologetic look.  
  
"Look," Jean soothed, grabbing her by the arms and turning her around. "I'm not exactly happy about this, either. But, I'll be the one to get you in, and I'll be watching. If he so much as lifts a finger against you, I'll take you right back here."  
  
"Besides," Scott added, "you have an emotional relationship with the subject that gives you a strong advantage."  
  
"Had!" Ororo shouted. "Had five years ago. And it didn't exactly end well. If anything, he'll be more likely to block me out than anyone else!"  
  
* * *  
  
How she ended up giving into the most deranged, and dangerous, mission of her life, she'd never know. Yet, there she was, sitting in a large, leather chair, a foot away from the man that was once her lover of three years. Jean, in a matching chair, told her to sit back and at least try to relax, much to her amusement. 


	3. Animal Crouching in Darkness

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hope you like! Just so you know, the story gets increasingly psychotic as it progresses, to give you something to look forward to.  
  
Ororo opened her eyes to find herself lying upon a cold, stone floor, surrounded by utter darkness. She heard a scream that pitched up through her spine and made her neck ache. It came from her right. She ran to the wall beside her, putting her ear against the crisp brick, and she heard a low growl as clearly as if a wolf were snarling right before her nose. She knew from experience that box-office thriller sounds were a dead give-away to the whereabouts of Victor Creed.  
  
She felt her way around the room, looking for a door of any sort. She eventually found one, with a very convenient, old-fashioned lock, complete with a large keyhole, and as she picked the lock, she wondered to herself exactly how old the door was. It opened with a creak, and she found herself in a long, dark hallway, full of similar doors in a grid. She was either in a dungeon or a very old jail. She turned to the door from which the screams were continuing. She looked through a small, barred window. Victor was indeed there. He was stalking low to the ground on all fours around an aged man, who was lying upon the floor, clutching his side.  
  
The man was speaking in a coarse, almost strangled whisper. "Please," he gasped, "you can't do this. Not to your own father." Victor's only reply came in the form of a menacing chuckle, and Ororo was sure this display was about to take an ugly turn.  
  
"I know I was wrong all those years ago," the man tried once more. "I should have loved you more and shown more compassion. I was a very confused man. I only meant to-" But he was cut off by a loud roar from Sabretooth. The mammoth leapt forward, taking hold of his father's torso, and scraped at his stomach and chest repeatedly, tearing open his skin with every slash, so that his chest wall and intestines became visible.  
  
Revolted, Ororo ran away, toward the end of the long hallway. When she reached a dead end, she searched for another door, but found none. She ran back, the other way, the screams becoming more and more shrill, until she became so tired, she had to resume her search at a walk. A few steps from the end, she felt the unmistakable breathing of some sort of animal. She stopped, trying to judge if it had felt her presence, and was answered by an ominous growl just behind her ear.  
  
She ran to the end of the corridor, where she groped the wall in the darkness of a door. The animal seemed to be watching her, enjoying her seemingly meaningless panic. Finally finding the door, she swung it wide open and leaped outside, turning shortly to get a look the beast before she shut it. To her surprise, she saw not a beast, but the long, swaying coat of a person, who had turned back to the darkness the minute she had let in the light.  
  
Outside the dungeon, Ororo stood in a dense forest of thick trees. She wandered for miles until she came to a small clearing, upon which a quaint log cabin stood. She decided to go in for a drink, as her throat was becoming quite parched, and pondered whether or not one could get nutrition from within someone's psyche. She half-heartedly stepped through the door.  
  
But, just as she walked through the door, she wished she hadn't. Victor was at the opposite side of the room, holding an Indian woman up against the wall by the neck. Recognizing the woman immediately, she tried to step outside once more. She knew this scene all too well. However, she turned the knob in vain, as it was locked from the outside. Not wanting to be found when Victor was done with the legendary Silver Fox, she hid in a cupboard beneath the sink.  
  
As she listened to Fox's gags and shouts of agony, as well as Victor's low grunts of satisfaction, she was glad she couldn't see his evil work. 


	4. Red Flag

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, gethmane8, for the kind words. You are my hero. Brendon, you must read and review! Or else I shall plan terrible kinds of torture for you.  
  
After hiding out for half an hour of silence, she finally cracked the cupboard open to see if the coast was clear. But, rather than the log cabin she had seen before, she was looking out onto a very familiar apartment. Daring to risk her safety, she came out into the open. There was no one home, except a tall, African woman with white hair who had her back turned to her. Ororo silently stepped out of the room, into her own bedroom, and closed the door, leaving a small slit open to watch herself.  
  
The Ororo of Victor's mind was cooking a wonderful Egyptian dish called zunapta, and humming softly to herself. Apparently, this was one of her better days with her roommate, Victor Creed, who had a nasty series of mood swings that would determine whether she had a nice evening or a sore body. Suddenly, Ororo remembered the occasion for the special dish.  
  
It was their three-year anniversary. She almost ran out to warn her past self of the danger she was about to find herself in, when the door swung open with a crack. Victor stepped over the threshold with a glare, and her past self seemed to notice his particularly bad mood.  
  
"How was work?" she asked innocently.  
  
"Fine," he practically shouted. "Ororo, is there anything you want to tell me?"  
  
She instinctively backed away from the hot stove, remembering past punishments. "What could it be now?" she retorted. "Did I forget to tell you that I was cooking you dinner tonight? I know that really pisses you off." Sabretooth was slowly stepping forward, backing her into a corner. "Or that I'm brushing my teeth with Mentadent now, rather than Crest?"  
  
"You know I hate that attitude. Why don't you just be cooperative for once and save yourself the pain?" He grabbed her wrist, threw her to the ground, pulled both her arms far behind her, immobilizing her, and sat upon her back, his knee digging into her spine. She struggled the whole way down, forcing upon herself several popped joints. "I had a mission today," he informed her. "I was working with the Shadow King on an assassination. He and I had a few very interesting little chats."  
  
"Are you sure you should be talking to me about your job?" Ororo asked through clenched teeth. That one earned her a twist to her arm and a harsh jab with his knee.  
  
"You're a mutant!" he screamed at her. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"  
  
"What?" She was sincerely confused, as it went without question that he himself was a mutant.  
  
"Three years. Three long years, and you never said a word!"  
  
"I'm a black girl with white hair and blue eyes!" she yelled back. "Didn't that send you a red flag?!" Frustrated, Victor twisted her arms the other way, putting both her wrists in one hand, and flung her body into a different position, face up, under his straddle. With his free hand, he grabbed two butcher knives from a cabinet and jammed them into each of her hands, pinning her to the ground. The Munroe behind the door winced with the memory, as she heard herself scream, and looked to two long, thin scars upon the palms of her hands.  
  
Victor, an evil glimmer rising into his eyes, lowered his head to the body of the Ororo on the floor and began to smell her rage through the pores upon her neck, chest, stomach, and pubis, enjoying her feminine scent thoroughly. She fought hard against her oppressor, widening the gashes in her hands with each jolt. Then, he returned to her neck and bit hard. Blood began to spurt out of major arteries, and he relished in its sweet taste. Ororo shrieked in pain.  
  
"You're just like your father, you bastard!" she screamed. Victor snapped his head up from her throat to glare at her. He'd never told her anything about his father, or any of his childhood, but he had a tendency to yell his dad's name in almost all of his nightmares. As she watched, Ororo realized, seven years too late, that she didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. But, he nonetheless grasped the knives in each of her hands, pulled them out harshly, and stabbed them into the ground, right beside her face, essentially freeing her. He got up from her and ran outside, drenched in blood. Ororo, tears streaking down her face, ran to a towel, wrapping it tightly around her hands and neck to stop the bleeding.  
  
The Ororo behind the door tried to make a quiet exit outside. But, when she turned around, she hit something solid. As the room was in a state of utter darkness, she couldn't see him, but his low growl told her she was face-to-face with Victor. She now understood who it was that she had mistaken for an animal back in the dungeon. Ororo started to gasp, but he put his hand over her mouth. She tried to kick him between the legs, and he wrapped his leg around her ankle. She tried to punch him, and he twisted her arm behind her own back, at an excruciating angle. She reached with her free hand towards his throat, and he preformed the same trick. Her knee went up, but he forced it down with his own. She seemed to be trapped in a net of Victor.  
  
He snickered into her ear. "Don't this look familiar?" He bent down toward her neck, his teeth barred, and suddenly everything blurred. Ororo felt herself being dragged backward, as if by a harness, and she saw two long, stone walls on both sides of her. As she was pulled back, she saw the scenes she had just experienced, rolling, as if in a motion picture being rewound.  
  
Suddenly, her eyes were blinded by a bright light, and she was in the Medlab. Both Jean and Xavier were standing over her, and she was home. Safe. 


	5. An Avocado

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanx, edinarain, LT, dragonlady sakura, Satan's Widdle Hellper, and gethmane8 for the reviews. You guys are great! I know this chapter is kinda boring, but I'm using it to explain some things, so you know (in upcoming chapters) when Ororo is in Victor's memories and when she's in his subconscious. You'll get it as you read along. So read!  
  
The lush, green slopes of Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning swayed in the cool morning breeze. Ororo was soaring high above the land, dancing in the clouds. However, as hard as she tried, she couldn't get Victor Creed out of her mind, and rain began to pelt down around her, reacting to her melancholy mood.  
  
Her mind was suddenly invaded by a warm glow. A motherly voice spoke to her. "Ororo," Jean said. "Can I speak to you, please?" Ororo groaned from the back of her throat but agreed. She flew low into the Mansion, still hovering above the ground to speed past several groups of students who gawked stupidly.  
  
She finally touched the floor before Jean's office. The door opened for her, at her friend's command, and she walked in, dreading what she knew Jean was about to ask. She offered her a seat in a leather sofa, and Ororo sat down. Jean took a seat next to her.  
  
"Ororo," she began, "I understand you were really scared by what happened on Tuesday, but we really need you-"  
  
"You think you understand?" Ororo cut her off. "Do you understand what it is like to have to relive the worst piece of your life? Do you understand what it is like to have the worst piece of your life exposed to the world? You do not understand shit!"  
  
Jean took a while to answer. "You're right. I have no idea what any of that is like. But I have sacrificed myself twice for the good of this world. Now, if you don't get in there and try to talk to him, our reality will become nothing more than a global massacre!"  
  
"You sacrificed yourself for a universal tragedy that you instigated!" Ororo yelled. "And did you not see what happened in his mind? He does no want to talk to me; he wants to eat me!"  
  
"You've gotten farther than any of the rest of us. Do you know what happens when Xavier or I try to speak to him?" Ororo waited for the answer, but Jean seemed to be contemplating how to explain the complexity of the situation. "Okay," she finally said. "Imagine the human psyche as an avocado."  
  
Ororo almost laughed in her face. "An avocado?! How old are we?"  
  
"There's a thick outer layer. That's where all the memories take place. The Victor that exists in this realm is just living Victor's life, as it actually happens. Then, deep inside, there's this little core, but it's far more powerful than the outer layer. This is where his subconscious exists. The Victor in this realm is the Victor we want to speak to. That's why you saw one Victor in front of you while another one was right behind you." She took a deep breath.  
  
"We got through to his subconscious, but, because his emotions have complete control, we couldn't actually see him. He locks us in a small, dark room, with no doors or windows, and we sit, waiting for him to get tired of our presence enough to talk to us. But he never does." Ororo looked very unconvinced. "He let you through to his memories. That's a milestone in itself! Now, we think that, in time, you can gain his trust and he'll lead you openly into his subconscious as well. Or, maybe you'll come across the memory that'll tell us where Senator Kelly is. Either way, we really need you to do this. We've only got three days."  
  
Ororo gritted her teeth, trying to prevent the words creeping at the back of her mind. "I'll do it," she finally stated. 


	6. SHIELD

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, Saki, April Kristina, and gethmane8. You guys are great! Anything between these symbols: ^ are quotes straight from the graphic novel "Codename: Wolverine". Very good book. Check it out.  
  
Ororo opened her eyes. She was in a huge room composed entirely of titanium-alloy, in a small, dark corner. A loud sliding sound erupted from her left, as an automatic door opened, revealing four mutants clad in black nylon uniforms, walking dangerously close to her. The first was a teammate she knew all too well, whose only name was Logan, codename Wolverine. Behind him, a short and squat mutant known as Maverick walked in. Next came an Indian woman named Silver Fox, with Sabretooth behind, casually surveying her frame with a smirk.  
  
Logan sat in a revolving chair, tipped back, his feet rested upon the table before him. Fox squeezed his shoulder just slightly as she passed. She and Maverick both grabbed other chairs to join him, and Victor, who thumped Logan on the back of the head jokingly, sat upon the table, one knee drawn to his chest. Ororo noticed that there seemed to be a bit of camaraderie between the two, very unlike the hatred they currently shared for each other.  
  
"I still don't know," Maverick groaned, rubbing his neck painfully. "I mean, assassinating the Archduke could only lead to further conflict. I don't see how it improves the situation at all."  
  
"Our job is not to improve the situation," Silver Fox replied. "We're here to give some paybacks to the Catholics."  
  
"Besides," piped Logan, "it's done now. You can't tear yurself up over sumthin' that's done and accounted for."  
  
"Look," Maverick countered, "all I'm saying is that Ferdinand was a major figure to the Austrians. Over and above his stature, the man is like Elvis to them."  
  
"That's kinda why we hit him," Logan pointed out. Ororo found it hard to keep silent, as she learned that one of her closest friends had been behind the assassination that started the first World War.  
  
Maverick wasn't satisfied. "But-"  
  
"Look, ^you do your job and you take your pay and you go home^," Victor stated gruffly. "^And if you need something to help you sleep, well, you can sure afford it with what we're paid.^"  
  
"Well, that's easy for you to say," Maverick grumbled. "It's not like you have a conscience."  
  
"What the fuck do you know about it?" Victor said, starting to rise from his position on the table.  
  
"Oh, please, Creed. You live your life in the shadows, away from any human contact. You watch the world from a spectator's point of view and you hate everything you see. To you, no one is worth saving, because there's always a chance they could hurt you if you let them close."  
  
Ororo felt a twinge in her heart, as these words made her realize why she and Victor had gotten along so well. She looked at him, to see that he was trying hard to sustain his anger. "What about you, Mav." Maverick's confused look encouraged him to continue. "You live your life up high above everyone else. Everything's black an' white to you, because you're so fucking perfect you can't see beyond the ignorant lines of right an' wrong that you've drawn. You can't judge me. ^You ain't my friend, you ain't my mother, and you ain't my priest.^"  
  
Silver Fox quietly muttered, "^As if you had any of the above.^"  
  
Just as Victor snapped around to give her a snarl, the automatic doors opened again. A tall man with a pointed nose entered, pointing at the group. "This is them," he said to a group of soldiers who came into view. At least twenty men rounded upon the four, beating them with clubs and shocking them with electric pokers. After a few minutes of struggling, they were subdued (Logan and Victor by tranquilizers) and dragged out of the room.  
  
Ororo waited awhile to see if anyone else would come. She eventually got up from her hiding place and exited through the same door, hoping to god that there wouldn't be a squad awaiting her when she turned around. Sure enough, the door led to the outside of a huge military base.  
  
But, her arrival onto the scene had alerted the men in a bird's nest high above. The next thing she knew, a machine gun was firing at her, and she was running for her life toward the nest, knowing that her only means of survival would be to stop the gun. If she ran out into the open, she'd be dead. Underneath the nest, the men's guns couldn't reach her, but another nest could if she gave them time to realize what had happened. She quickly mounted the tiny staircase to the top.  
  
The two men who had fired upon her were craning their necks to look below for her. Without a second to lose, she unleashed a kick to the back of one man's neck, rounding with a karate chop upon the back of the next, each time, hitting their cranial nerve with a fatal blow. She undressed the taller of the two, whose uniform would better fit her 6'3" body. As she put on the dingy uniform, Ororo wondered if she should help Victor and his friends, who were betrayed by their leader, Fisk. After all, they were most likely headed to the lab to have their skeletons laced with adamantium metal. But, she soon remembered that she was only experiencing a man's memories, and that she shouldn't meddle with them. 


	7. A Child Leads the Way

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks Saki, April Kristina, Kelly_Pure, and gethmane8 for their reviews! I changed the name of Victor's dad. Jebodiah just doesn't sound like a Ukranian priest's name, ya know?  
  
After she had escaped the SHIELD base camp, Ororo had stepped into Canadian wilderness. After about an hour, the forest had melted into a city. She roamed the streets aimlessly for another hour and a half before she realized that she was in Odessa, Ukraine, where she had lived with Victor for three years. Though she hated the thought of returning to another reunion, she knew she had to go back to her apartment. The subconscious Victor would no doubt be there, waiting for her.  
  
She grudgingly went to her old home, thinking of a million escape routes that she had once used against her lover, and which self-defense moves she'd use when she inevitably encountered him again. She opened the door, holding her breath in anticipation of a full-scale attack. But none came. She heard herself giggling from her bedroom in the back, and knew that this was a good day. She went outside and around the house, to the bedroom window, which, due to its white drapes, would allow her to look in without being seen snooping.  
  
Inside, she saw herself lying upon Victor's bare chest, hugging him and laughing full-heartedly. She tried to resist the urge to smile, reminding herself of the day he'd left. Victor was kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and her lips, in a childish but romantic gesture, and Ororo saw herself bite his lip playfully.  
  
Victor pulled away, looking into her eyes with what was almost a smile. "You know," he told her, "there was a time when I couldn't touch a single person without giving into the instinct to kill." While her gaze grew serious, she didn't seem to think any less of her lover. Though this was the first time he'd confessed to it, she had known for quite a while that he was a violent man. "I don't know what it was about you, but the first time you touched me, I knew instantly that I had to have more. And I used to think that I wasn't afraid of anything. But there are days when I wake up in the night, scared shitless because I had dreamt about a future without you in my life." They kissed again, and Ororo wanted to kick herself for falling for his act...it was a act, right ?  
  
She then began to trace every muscle in the man's sculpted torso, understanding that he used his impressive build to harm others, yet somehow not caring. She stopped when she came to the left side of his lower ab. She gazed into his eyes, and Ororo knew what the two weren't saying. Victor had taken a bullet for her years ago, and since then he'd always been ticklish in that one spot (though he adamantly denied it every time it came up). Ororo pulled herself away from the window. She hadn't come here to dream of things that would never be. She needed to find Victor.  
  
Church bells rang from a distance. She decided to visit the cathedral, a safe-haven for her in the old days, as she desperately wanted to be somewhere pure, somewhere devoid of anything Victor-related. She made her way down the cobblestone street to the huge doors of the church.  
  
She opened the doors, flooding the customarily dark room with sunlight, and shut them quietly. She went to a pew in the back and bent upon the ground in prayer. After only a couple of minutes, she heard light footsteps enter the room. She peered over the pew before her to see a little boy looking curiously at the Virgin Mary to the left of the stage in front. The boy, who appeared to about nine years old, had long, blonde hair that fell just past his shoulders in matted clumps of sweat and dirt, and his clothes were little more than a moth-eaten blanket with armholes. She felt sorry for him, and started to get up to greet him, when he turned around.  
  
His irises were just as black as his pupils. It was Victor, at a very young age. Ororo ducked lower in the pew, hoping his keen vision hadn't spotted her already. Her hopes were crushed when he began running toward her at his top speed. She waited for him to find her, wondering if he was as vicious as a child as he was the rest of his life, but he surprised her when he ran past her toward the door.  
  
Just a few feet short of it, however, three monks intercepted him and began dragging him back to the front of the room. Victor howled and fought, and, even so young, the three men could barely contain him. But, slowly he was taken back into a room behind the stage, which Ororo assumed was the living quarters of the priest. She got up from her hiding place and went to the room.  
  
On the door was a sign, reading, in Old English print, "Father Valerius". She knocked and ran behind the statue of Mary, but no one answered, so she assumed the room to be empty. She opened the door. But what she found wasn't an office at all, but a narrow, dark stairway that lead down. 


	8. Childhood is Bliss

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A great, big shout-out to April Kristina, dragonlady sakura, (Brenden), and Saki for the wonderful reviews! ^Translated from.whatever language they speak in Ukraine.^ Wow, and I was in 2 AP history classes. That should tell you what a wonderful school system California has. Anyway, this chapter's for all you sadists out there. ;)  
  
The steps came to a long stone hallway that reminded Ororo of her first visit into Victor's mind.  
  
She peered into the first window, and saw Victor, a bit older in age, stripped naked and raised high above the ground. His arms were tied behind his back by what she recognized as dried leather. The makeshift rope was wrapped around his neck, draped behind his back, tied around his penis, then wrapped around his thighs, and finally pulled to his arms, where it tied around his wrists. Victor had often preformed this torture on her at home. He would take wet leather and tie it around her limbs, letting it shrink as it dried. The leather would cut into her to the point that it bled. And indeed, his skin was bleeding profusely. Suddenly, a monk below pulled a bar out of the long chain that held him, and Victor began falling at a deadly pace to the ground. At the last minute, the monk put the bar back into the chain, and, just feet from the floor, Victor's body was jerked to a stop. A loud crunching sound was heard, as his ligaments strained and his shoulders and hips dislocated from the pressure. He only winced, as if he was used to such treatment.  
  
Hoping to find the subconscious Victor here, as she had before, Ororo moved on. She stopped at the second window again, to see four monks struggling him into a chair. This time, it was the younger Victor that she had seen in the sanctuary. He was forced onto a straight, iron bench, which had nine-inch nails protruding from it every foot or so. The nails pierced his thighs and calves, and he shrieked in response. As he squirmed in pain, the wounds on his legs ripped and tore, even more painful. The young child called out. ^Father!^ A tall man donned in white and gold robes was watching with a look of boredom upon his face.  
  
The monks then put a spiked collar upon the child's neck. The collar was slipped around his head easily, as it had an eleven-inch diameter, but, as one monk twisted a screw upon it, the diameter became smaller and smaller. The spikes, which extended inward, were slowly pushed into the boy's neck. Finally, once the collar had been put on, another monk twisted a lever on the chair, which twisted a three-inch long, two-inch wide screw directly into his spine on the nape of his neck. Ororo turned away from the screams.  
  
She walked to the last room, forcing herself to see every bit of the cruelty. This time, the room wasn't a room at all, but a cave, with a lake of water at the bottom. From a hole in the roof of the cave, a small cage was being lowered, and inside sat Victor, who looked to be no older than six years old. There were smoking coals on the bottom of the cage, which were burning his bare skin. Victor looked through the bars, and for a brief second, Ororo felt that he could see through her.  
  
She suddenly realized that the bars she was looking through were not the bars to the room, but those of the cage. Somehow, she had traded places with Victor. She looked to him pleadingly, but he only turned from the small window and ran off. She was enclosed. It was then that Ororo felt the burning pain. She was nude, and the coals below her were burning her bottom and feet. She was enclosed. The cage touched the water, and the fire went out. She was grateful for a short while, until she realized that the cage was still lowering. She was enclosed. The water rose to her knees, her chest, her chin. She was enclosed.  
  
Then, she was enclosed all around by ice-cold water. She felt her need for air growing, growing until it consumed her. She almost forgot about her claustrophobia entirely, as she felt her lungs explode. But that wasn't the end; she still had six more seconds of torment to live through before her lungs would lose their restored oxygen as well, and her heart would quit beating. Six. She was enclosed all around. Five. No air. Four. The pain. Three. The mutants. Two. She had failed. One. She was enclosed all around.  
  
AUTHOR AGAIN: I bet you didn't see THAT coming! Hahahahaha! I brainwashed you, my precious reader, into thinking that, just because she is the main character, Ororo can't die. But I tricked you! Auroraraye goes into more hysterics of insane, villainous cackling. 


	9. Innocent Affection

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, edinarain, gethmane8, April Kristina, Saki, and Jazz for the great reviews! And just so you know, the movie The Cell was my inspiration for the story, but I'm not following the plotline at all. So, you'll just have to read the rest to know what happens! ;)  
  
The same room. She was in the same dark, cold room made of stone. But there was one exception. There was a single bright spotlight shining down upon the middle of the cell. Ororo assumed she had only survived because she had died in Victor's subconscious, which she hoped meant that he didn't actually want her dead. But she knew it was a pathetic attempt to calm herself down. She heard a shuffling of feet, and shoved herself as far into the dark corner behind her as she could.  
  
Victor came into view, but she couldn't tell if it was the memory Victor or the subconscious Victor. He seemed to be writhing in agony. He crawled upon the ground on his hands and knees, back and forth, in a pace, gripping his stomach and snarling at no one in particular.  
  
Whatever was ailing him, it had to be terrible, as he made no indication that he was aware of her presence, and Ororo knew that, when nothing else was distracting him, he could smell her blood, even inside her veins, from a fifty-yard radius. She took a tiny step forward, putting her foot in the light. He didn't see her, as he was clawing at the wall irrationally.  
  
She put her entire body into the light, and still he didn't see her. Now confident that she couldn't actually die here, no matter how painful, she stepped forward and grasped him by the arm. He spun around to her touch, roaring deafeningly into her ears. She held onto him bravely. He threw a backhand across her face, and her head snapped to the right. She looked back to him, four small scratches across her left cheek.  
  
She stroked his cheek softly, trying to prove to him that she didn't want to harm him, but he pulled away from her, trying to recede into the darkness. She kept him close to her, and he snapped a bite at her through the air. She remembered him telling her that he couldn't stand the human touch, and a pang of sympathy rang through her heart, finally understanding the roots of his abuse-reactive behavior.  
  
She hugged him around the neck, forcing him to experience the strongest form of innocent affection she could think of. He shrank to the touch but she held on; he growled in anger but she held on; he shoved her but she held on. Finally, he gave in and rested his head upon her shoulder, continuing to snarl at her but no longer physically fighting her.  
  
After almost two full minutes of simply holding onto him, she backed off slightly to look at him, hoping to gage what he was thinking. His cautious stare had transformed into a sly smirk, and she felt arousal creeping behind his eyes. "You really have always been a horn-dog, haven't you?" she teased. And somehow, she found herself kissing him.  
  
He reacted naturally, pursing his lip around hers and soon working his tongue with her own. She felt a chill travel up her spine, as she relished his simple touch. She missed him so much. Suddenly, she was in the same long tunnel as before, everything she had seen rolling before her eyes in reverse. She came to in the Medlab once more.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Jean yelled.  
  
Ororo turned away. "I do not know. It just felt right at the time."  
  
"You mean at the time right after he had killed you?"  
  
"Let me back in," she demanded.  
  
"That's out of the question. Don't you even wonder why I let you die?"  
  
Ororo hadn't thought of that. "Why did you-"  
  
"I didn't!" Jean was outraged that her best friend believed she would commit such an atrocity against her. "I lost control!"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You were in his subconscious. We knew he'd gain control over the situation, but we didn't know he could hold you there, against my will. For all we know, now that you gave him a taste of what he was missing, I might not be able to ever get you back!"  
  
"But I was in his subconscious! Mission accomplished. That has been what we wanted all along. And I obviously won back his trust. I bet next time- "  
  
"That wasn't him. You were in his subconscious when you died, but just now, you basically altered his memory of losing all touch with humanity...whether or not that's a good thing, I don't know-but that's not the point! The subconscious Victor is still the bloodthirsty monster that he's always been. Do you really want to face that?"  
  
"What about sacrificing myself for the good of the world?"  
  
"You've sacrificed. It didn't work. There are other things we could try: we're using Cerebro, we're sending out both the teams, we're-"  
  
"And are any of those things working?" Ororo shouted. "No! This is our only option. Look, I can take care of myself. I mean, I have already died in there, and I came back. Maybe that means he does not really want me dead."  
  
"Oh, honey," her voice softened, "that's just you trying to convince yourself because you're not over him."  
  
"Shut the fuck up!" Jean took a step back, surprised by her friend's first outburst at the Mansion.  
  
"It's true," she stated. "You forget, I was there. I was monitoring your mental health, as well as your emotions. You're still in love with him, whether you want to admit it or not."  
  
"You know what? I do not care. The only thing that matters is that I am almost there. I am centimeters away from speaking to him. Just give me one more hour, please."  
  
Jean sighed, obviously very much against the idea, but acquiesced. 


	10. No Way In Hell

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks going out to dragonlady sakura, Saki, Satan's Widdle Hellper, remysgame , gethmane8 for the great reviews. Sorry, guys. From this point on, the chapters don't really have endings but cliffhangers. I just wrote it all out one night and realized I needed to separate it into chapters when I was on my 1,720th word. Hehe.  
  
She prepared herself for the worst. Ororo expected to find herself in circumstances far more dangerous, sickening, and vulnerable than any before. Yet, when she opened her eyes, she saw the domed ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, ornately decorated with beautiful paintings of Michelangelo, which told the story of the entire Bible. But she wasn't in the Sistine Chapel. She lay in a comfortable bed in an enormous, gold room. The blankets all around her were a deep wine red and her pillows were a rusted bronze.  
  
She was obviously in Victor's subconscious now, and she quickly warned herself to be careful. She sat up, moving several layers of sheets, for a better look. The vacant room had no doors. Why would Victor lock her in a room alone? To spark her claustrophobia?  
  
"Do you like the décor?" his voice came rumbling out across the room. He was hiding in a single corner of utter darkness, the only spot in the entire room not illuminated by a huge chandelier above her head. She could only see two small, amber orbs, the reflection of the light in his pupils.  
  
She nodded slowly. "It's beautiful."  
  
"You make it beautiful."  
  
Ororo felt Jean tugging at the corners of her mind anxiously, aware of his strong arousal and afraid for her best friend's safety. "Why did you bring me here?"  
  
"I'm not going to rape you," he stated coldly. "Your little friend can stop worrying." Jean's tug on Ororo ended dramatically, and the two stopped breathing at the thought that he could monitor them both. "Oh, yes, I've felt her since the beginning," he snickered. "That's why you're here and not her, isn't it? I'm supposed to trust you." He gave a low chuckle, but stopped short. "You're the last person in the world I would ever trust."  
  
"You will never trust anyone," she snapped, "until you have complete control, and by then, they are dead." The two sat in silence for a few minutes, until Ororo spoke again, slowly, still thinking her plan out as she spoke. "What if Jean was not watching?" The back of her mind twisted, as Jean began to panic.  
  
But Victor was obviously interested; for the first time, he blinked. "I'm listening."  
  
"What if we compromise? I will agree to come through Cerebro, without Jean's help. And you will agree to answer any questions I ask."  
  
"What kind of stupid bitch are you? You can't trust me."  
  
"I do not. I am giving you complete control, by desperation, not trust."  
  
After what seemed five minutes, he answered. "I agree."  
  
Ororo was dragged out of the room, through the same long, stone tunnel, into the Medlab. Jean was boring through her with her eyes, obviously furious.  
  
"No way in hell!" she shouted. "He'll kill you!"  
  
Ororo got up from her chair and left the room before the second sentence was finished. Two steps into the hallway, she felt herself being slammed against the wall to her right. She looked back, to see that her best friend was pinning her with her telekinesis, in a last attempt to keep her from a monster. She centered every focus of her mind upon her abilities and sent a huge gust of wind Jean's way. She flew across the corridor, smashing into the opposite wall, and falling to the floor in a heap. Her telekinetic hold over Ororo gave away, as she lost consciousness. She couldn't believe she had just harmed her best friend, and she realized at the last moment that she could have caused serious damage. Trying to forget this last thought, she ran into Cerebro's chambers.  
  
She wasn't quite sure if she was ready to take on the task she had obligated herself to. Her weather control was psionic, but she had no actual telepathic powers. Someone with weak control over extreme powers could be killed by Cerebro's oppressive demands, but she herself had extreme control over her weak psionic abilities, so she wasn't sure which way her luck would swing. Ignoring these precautions, she ran to the helmet upon the waiting platform and shoved it upon her head.  
  
A cold, searing pain shot through her entire body, focusing right behind her temples and the nape of her neck. What felt like a thousand needles began piercing her head, and she couldn't feel her toes or fingers. Just as she screamed, ready for her oncoming death, a bright flash of light overcame her and the pain stopped.  
  
She was in the same room as before, and once again, Victor was in the dark corner, watching her patiently. She sat, waiting for him to move, but rather than attack, he asked, "What do you want to know?" 


	11. The Thin Line Between Pity and Sympathy

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much, remysgame, S.W.H, and dragonlady sakura for the reviews. Those of you who were annoyed by the cliffhanger last time (sorry, SWH) you'll be even more so now. But I promise it's worth it.  
  
She went to the edge of the bed, trying to get as close to him as possible, though this went strictly against every instinct in her body. "Okay, your father was a priest. Do you remember the year that you were born?"  
  
Victor paused for quiet a while before answering. "That's not the question I had expected. Why do you want to know?"  
  
"I am going to know everything before I leave. Then I will get down to what I originally came here for."  
  
"No." Ororo was disappointed, until he added, "But it was sometime during the sixteenth century."  
  
"Why were you so furious when you found out that I was a mutant?" she went along quickly.  
  
"Aren't you here about Senator Kelly?"  
  
"Answer the question," she bellowed.  
  
He was silent for another few seconds. "Look, I grew up believing that anyone who was in any way out of the ordinary was automatically evil. After time, I figured out that my father was wrong, but I always resented the mutant race, because, in a way, it was my mutant parents' fault that I went through everything I did."  
  
Ororo found herself lost in thought, searching for some sort of appropriate response, but found none. It was a moment before she realized that he was awaiting her next question, and she awkwardly tried to recollect her thoughts. "Wait, if both your parents were mutants, why was your dad so cruel to you?"  
  
He obviously realized that every question was going to be personal, and he sped through the answer, trying to hurry the process. "He isn't my biological dad. Or maybe he is, and he just made up some bullshit story to keep his sanity, I don't know. But he always told me that I was left upon a pew one night with a note about how my parents would love to but couldn't, blah, blah, blah. So, he took me in, not realizing that I'd turn out to be a complete freak, and by that time, he felt it was his responsibility to rid me of the demon that he thought was possessing me." He stopped his speed-talk for a second. "I dunno," he stated quietly. "He just always felt like a dad, ya know? Even with all the shit he pulled, sometimes, he wasn't so bad."  
  
Ororo balked. "Wasn't so bad, like, told the monks to slap you around a bit, rather than perform Spanish Inquisition torture methods?" He growled from the back of his throat, and she continued. "So, what was the worst thing he ever did to you?"  
  
Victor hastily drew in a breath of air, and he fell silent for a few seconds. "I guess the most painful treatment was starvation. Probably the most humiliating, too. After a couple of days, when I was really desperate, he'd allow me feces for food. And just on the glimpse of death, he'd have his henchmen force saltwater down my throat. It gives your esophagus and intestines vital minerals to keep you alive longer, but it hurts like hell."  
  
"Did he ever try to kill you?"  
  
"He actually did. Several times." Ororo felt her throat tighten as he spoke. "My body would have to regenerate itself from scratch."  
  
"Why do you kill?" she asked quickly, trying to remind herself that this man didn't deserve her sympathy.  
  
Victor was thinking very hard. "We're getting off track. Don't you want to prevent Senator Kelly's death?"  
  
"By allowing yourself to become a psychopathic killer, you're giving into SHIELD."  
  
"Aren't you here to save the entire mutant race?"  
  
"You're giving into your father!"  
  
He stopped his ploy, furious. "What the fuck do you know about it?"  
  
"I know he thought that, because you were different, you were evil and therefore needed to be punished. He was wrong. But you keep giving evidence to his case!"  
  
"Don't you get it?" Victor screamed at her. "He wasn't wrong!"  
  
Ororo shook her head, frustrated. "What?"  
  
"Why is it that everyone in this world understands but you? I *am* evil. Not because I'm a mutant, but because that's the way I was born! Maybe it's in my blood, maybe I'm a product of my environment but in the end, the reason doesn't matter. You don't become a 'psychopathic killer' because you're not thinking straight. You become a methodical murderer because that's who you are." The whole time he spoke, she continued shaking her head, and, by the time he finished, she had her hands over her ears. He came lurching forward and grasped her arms from her head. "Listen to me, damnit! I'm sorry that you can't bear the fact that you loved an evil person, but that's your problem, not mine. Someday, you'll have to face the facts."  
  
"I still love you, bastard!" Ororo cried. She looked up at him and tried to slap his face, but he held her wrists firmly. She almost gasped when she noticed the skin around his eye was charred. His face was covered in deep scars, and his left ear was severely burnt. She suddenly realized that, of the hours she'd spent in his mind, he'd never allowed her to actually see him.  
  
Victor tried to pull back from the light, but adrenaline gave her strength, and she held him still. He kept his eyes downcast, avoiding her concerned gaze. She took one of his arms in her hands and saw a muscular forearm riddled with bruises, scars, and burns. She slowly peeled his wifebeater off to look at his torso. His chest was in the same condition, and he had a gunshot wound in his stomach.  
  
Without thinking, she lightly touched it, and his abdominals quivered to the touch. It was the bullet he'd taken for her. He pushed her hand away and said in a flat voice, "I don't need your pity, bitch." 


	12. Don't It Make You Sick?

Chapter 12: Don't It Make You Sick?  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, dragonlady sakura, gethmane8, S.W.H, WolviesLover, and Jazz for the reviews! I'm really trying to give these characters some sense of love without distorting their essentially cold cores, but if it's not working, please understand that it's not an easy job. ;) In any case, I hope you like it.  
  
She grabbed his jaw and jerked his face forward, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I don't pity you," she said through clenched teeth. "I empathize with you. Six years with the Shadow King was not exactly luxury. And you left me with quite a few scars yourself." He looked away from her, and she continued quickly, "I understand you have gone through a lot of shit in your life, but that does not give you the right to do what you did. In fact, primarily because of you, I was convinced for years-" She stopped, reaching an epiphany. "-I am still convinced-that if I love anyone, they will only hurt me."  
  
The whole time she spoke, he kept avoiding her gaze. "I know. I'm so sorry. And I know that nothing I ever say will repay you for that, but-"  
  
Ororo was speaking without thinking. "Do you honestly want to repay me?" He finally looked into her eyes and gave a small but sincere nod. "Prove to me that I can love again."  
  
With that, he pressed his face into her own, and she grasped his back, surprised. Soon, the two were fully engrossed in each other, their tongues lashing out at one another violently. He supported her with one hand upon the small of her back and leaned into her body, thereby laying her upon the bed. Using only his forefinger and thumb, he swiftly unsnapped her bra, and removed his tongue from her mouth to tickle both her nipples with its tip. She arched her back, and he decided to skip foreplay.  
  
* * *  
  
Ororo's third orgasm began to simmer, and Victor slowed the pace of his thrusts. The chains around her wrists, which had been used primarily to force her to submit, uncoiled themselves and slid away from the bed. She smiled gleefully, wrapped one long leg around her lover's waist, and threw all her weight to the right. She and Victor both rolled over, and when they slumped to a stop, she was on top.  
  
Victor, whose endurance finally ran out, didn't resist, as he had nearly a hundred times just hours earlier. He kissed her neck and chest, where several fresh cuts stood as trophies of their frisky frolic, and drew two tiny sips of her thick blood. She curled her legs into his, her bare frame receiving more than enough body warmth from his seemingly thermal skin.  
  
Her head rested upon his chest, she heard a low rumbling start. The tremor- like sound grew until it consumed her ears, and she realized that he was purring in comfort. Memories of years past clouded her vision.  
  
"He's in Orleans," Victor said, awakening her from her stupor.  
  
"Hmm?" she sighed questioningly.  
  
"Kelly. He's in an abandoned World War I base in Orleans, France. He's being guarded by Mystique, Avalanche, and Pyro."  
  
"That is nice," she breathed carelessly. But a reminder of Jean sprang to her mind, and she began to wonder if her friend was alright. "I probably should go."  
  
Victor's arm wrapped around her, silently screaming for her not to leave. "Yeah, you probably should."  
  
"Though I daresay it does not hurt to stay for a few more minutes."  
  
"I won't object." She chuckled softly, and he sat up. She slid down into his lap, and, as he nuzzled her face with his own, she rubbed her shoulder deeper into his chest. The two were no longer a world-renowned thief and an invulnerable assassin but two purring, cuddling kittens. 


	13. Her World Goes Numb

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to dragonlady sakura, gethmane8, Saki, and S.W.H for the faithful reviews! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I almost dropped the end of the story altogether, but I couldn't let it end on that sappy note.  
  
"Okay, class, as we have already discussed, the World War II Debate is tomorrow. However, now I am throwing you a curve ball: you must argue the topic that you were originally opposing." The class of 68 students omitted a uniform groan, and many heads were heard banging upon their desks in frustration. "So, if you were assigned to support the Axis, you will now be a part of the Allies, and visa versa. Oh, I don't want to hear a single complaint! I specifically told you that your grade would rely more on how well you knew your opponent's argument than how well you knew your own. However," she added, noting the large grin on Alex Summers' face, "procrastinators will not be rewarded; I am still collecting your index cards for your original topic." Alex dropped his grin and slumped forward in his seat. "You presentation will be worth forty percent..."  
  
Ororo felt her own voice drifting away, as she began to think of Victor. It had been seventeen days since she had first reconnected with him again, and their love had grown dramatically in that short time. She visited his subconscious daily, with Jean's help. Each day, they seemed to become closer than ever before, as if the relationship that had severed five years ago had began fresh on that evening, three weeks ago. Between her monotone instructions, she glanced at the clock. Four more hours until she could see him again.  
  
Suddenly, her thoughts were disrupted by the loud swing of her classroom door. Dr. Hank McCoy walked in, signaled for her to come outside, and then shut the door quietly. Ororo turned to the now-bustling room. "You have five minutes until the end of class. In that time, you can re-organize your notes for tomorrow. You have the rest of the day to get together with a classmate if you are not yet prepared, though you should be. But remember that I shall be asking Cerebro to cross-reference all your material, and I will give any linked matches a score of 0."  
  
With that, she stepped outside into the perfectly quiet corridor, where her enormous friend was pacing and twirling the blue fur of his knuckles. She immediately recognized his nervous habit. "Hank, are you alright?"  
  
He gave a weak smile and motioned for her to follow him. "We should probably speak in a more private setting." Once inside his office, he handed her a small glass of water and gently seated her upon a comfortable sofa.  
  
"Hank," Munroe commanded, tense with worry, "tell me what is wrong."  
  
"Ororo," he began, somewhat shakily, "it appears that Victor has awoken from his coma. We tried our best to subdue him, but-"  
  
She felt her heart skip a beat and then pound with excitement, as the glass in her hand clanked to the floor. "I have to see him!" she cried, through a small bit of laughter.  
  
"No, Ororo, you don't understand-" But before Hank could get another word out of his mouth, she had risen and flown at top speed down the hallway. She impatiently pressed the elevator button twelve times before she realized that it had to be broken. Shrugging, she ran to the stairway, but was met with a harsh blow.  
  
Victor, who was walking unaided and fully clothed (though his shirt was badly riddled with several unmistakable slashes of Wolverine's claws), had run into her. Without so much as a second glance, he stomped out of the lobby and into the morning sun.  
  
Ororo, hardly believing this inexplicable twist of fate, yelled after him. "Victor! Victor, wait!!" She yanked the doors open with a gust of wind and pelted after him with incredible speed. "Would you wait one second?!" He grasped his arm and forcibly turned him to face her.  
  
"For what?" he yelled. "Another one of your speeches? I don't know what the fuck you want with me, but I ain't about to-"  
  
"No!" Ororo screamed. "No, for once, you listen to me. I am sick and tired of your shit! If you truly love me, take this one chance to be hap-"  
  
"What?" Something changed in his eyes, and he stopped pulling away from her. "What the hell did you just say?"  
  
"Oh my god," she breathed. "You do not remember."  
  
"Look, I remember you, the fiery bitch, and self-righteous, old Baldy sniffing around in my mind, invading my privacy." His eyes began to take on a violent luster. "And I remember telling myself that I'd give you a proper thank-you as soon as I got out."  
  
She ignored his remark. "Oh, drop this charade. I know how you feel about me. I-" He rolled his eyes and walked away from her. Ororo caught up with him and matched his strides with some difficulty. "I know everything. Look, if you will just-" She stopped him with a huge gust of wind. A few chunks of ice flew into his hair, and she realized for the first time that the weather had suddenly become dark, drizzly, and cold. She tried to suppress her feelings and put on a strong front. "If you will just look into my eyes and tell me honestly that you do not feel anything for me, I will walk away." She paused. "And never bother you again. Ever."  
  
He lowered his face so that he was at her eye-level. "I have never felt anything for you. When we fucked, when we built the house together, every time I told you I loved you, there was nothing there. You were my frail, an interesting little creature I liked to toy with. But you started to get in the way when you had a history with half of all my clients, so I got rid of you. And I haven't regretted it since."  
  
Ororo felt her insides go cold, but set her jaw firm. "Fine," she said. "Then go. And never come back." Before he could turn away, she stormed off, forgetting her front, and let the world go cold. The skies became black and sleet pelted down all around her, making her face and fingers numb. She wanted nothing else in the world than to be entirely numb.  
  
THE END 


End file.
